"She may rejoin her family. That is what she longs for. Her mother and brother are probably strict Jews."
"I'll turn proselyte if she wishes it," said Hans, with a shrug and a laugh.
"Don't talk nonsense, Hans. I thought you professed a serious love for her," said Deronda, getting heated.
"So I do. You think it desperate, but I don't."
"I know nothing; I can't tell what has happened. We must be prepared for surprises. But I can hardly imagine a greater surprise to me than that there should have seemed to be anything in Mirah's sentiments for you to found a romantic hope on." Deronda felt that he was too contemptuous.
"I don't found my romantic hopes on a woman's sentiments," said Hans, perversely inclined to be the merrier when he was addressed with gravity. "I go to science and philosophy for my romance. Nature designed Mirah to fall in love with me. The amalgamation of races demands it—the mitigation of human ugliness demands it—the affinity of contrasts assures it. I am the utmost contrast to Mirah—a bleached Christian, who can't sing two notes in tune. Who has a chance against me?"
